I
Kaleidoscope: a tube containing mirrors and coloured glass or paper, whose reflections produce changing patterns.
“What do we know about this group?”
“Very little. We were only able to hack one computer for less then thirty seconds before its firewalls kicked us out. We have, at long last, been able to identify the ring leader. He goes by The Boss but his real name is Gregory Austin. He’s from a small town South of Jacobstown called West of Wisteria. He was an average kid who went to to med school but dropped out. He started up his own business when his father died and has been successful with everything he touches. His mother still lives in West of Wisteria but…” He stopped, desperately flicking through his notes,
“Agent whats wrong?”
“Nobody can find the house.”
“What do you mean nobody can find the house. It’s a house.”
“Yeah but it’s not on any official maps of the town or of any of the surrounding towns.”
“So how do you know she still lives there?”
“Because we have her moving there as a bride and we have no death certificate.”
“Trace when the house was built.”
“We cant?”
“Why not.”
“We have no address to trace.”
“I’m hearing lots of cants. I’d like to hear something we do know. Hopefully it’s more lucrative Agent Grace.”
“Yes. Yes. Austin runs a series of successful clubs. He’s been under surveillance for a while, partly because of one of the women he hangs out with. Emily Clarke. A very intelligent, very able computer hacker. We think she is very much in his inner circle. He, himself is extremely successful, extremely rich and extremely protected and we think Emily is one of these people who protects him. He has a circle that surrounds him – we don’t know the name of the circle, we don’t know how many members are in, but we know it exists. We believe that the Kaleidoscopic Circle is the main cause for most of the missing girls in and around America. We want to get inside, take it down from the inside.”
“You don’t have a lot of Intel. You seem to be running blind Agent. Tell me more about Emily.”
“We have her on our silver lists and we want to recruit her but we can’t touch her. She is extremely hard to find.’
“Why? because she’s so good and if we get a man inside we might be able to kill two birds. Get him and get her.”
“Why not just go after her?”
“We can’t m’am. First and foremost we want him but if we can get her in the meantime then it’ll be a win win. Having her on our side would save us a lot of trouble in the future. Which is why we need to get inside. We have an Agent here who may have some sway m’am.”
“You’re going to need more then sway Agent Wonder.” He nodded and took his seat at the head of the table, opposite the woman they needed to impress in order to get the okay for their case as his fellow agent stood, straightening his suit as he did.
For nearly an hour he spoke confidently and eloquently and answered any and all questions that were thrown at him with honest and detailed answers. She sat, shifting in her seat only once as he faced her down with unbreakable eye contact and waited until he finished speaking to ask her questions.
“Why do you think you are best suited to go in there? We have better agents, more qualified and far more skilled. What sets you apart?”
“I’ve met her. She’ll trust me.”
“How would you plan to go in?”
“I have a background in computer intelligence and security, I can play goon or nerd.”
“And what’s the end game?”
“Take it down.” He was impressive and she was impressed but there was more at stake then just the impression of the FBI.
“What if it fails? Does the world get to know about this group?”
“No m’am. If it fails, it fails but it never comes above ground. Stays away from the public. Stays private. Only those who need know.” She sighed, resting her hand on the table, the sleeve of her Diane Von Furstenburg dress riding up to expose her Dior watch.
“It’s still risky, given what we don’t know about this group. And if they’re as dangerous as you say, is it worth the risk?”
“Yes. I have a daughter m’am. I have enough to worry about without this group targeting her.”
“Fine” she exhaled heavily, her nostrils flaring ungracefully, “ but you radio back with Intel and you do not go underground. You could get killed you understand that right?”
“Yes m’am.”
“And you still want to go?”
“Yes m’am.”
“Then more fool you agent. But good luck.”
Welcome...
“You’re not serious Boss?”
“Just do it A.”
“It’s gonna take me some time.” He typed quickly into his computer knowing full well that his boss was waiting on the other end expecting a reply every fifteen seconds.
“Just fudge the truth.”
“Fudge the truth? You want it to be believable or you want it to be crap?!”
“I want it to be believable but I want it done fast.”
“Boss?”
“Get Em if you need her but just do it!” He slammed his keyboard about his desk as the girl before him sat listening and biting her thumb nail. Her blue eyes were bright and alert and she waited quietly, allowing his temper to stem before questioning him. She was impulsive but not stupid.
“Well?”
“I’m getting attitude but he’ll do it.”
“And then I take over. Don’t worry. We’ll get him. It’s only a matter of time.”
He breathed a sigh of relief and threw himself back against the back rest of the truck chair and closed his eyes finding the button that tipped him ever so slightly back. He smiled as familiar images of fatherhood flashed behind his closed eyelids. His children were growing up so quick and he was missing most of it. It didn’t make him sad though not like it should have. If he was completely honest with himself, not that he ever was, but if he was say at Confessional with Father O”Malley and he had to be honest or see his soul sent to damnation, then he could honestly say that not being there to see school plays, go to Teacher Parent meetings or see the artwork that his wife insisted be hung up all over the house wouldn’t cause him to lose any sleep. He missed his children as any father who spent longer away then at home naturally would, but the stuff they did, well if he never saw a painting or heard a poem again, it would be to soon.
His wife on the other hand was a different story altogether. When he was away from her he was pleased that she worried about him; “be careful of the weather, they said snow in the east...don’t drive at ridiculous speeds...and don’t pick up any hitchhikers...“. She had a thing about Hitchhikers and she said the same damn thing every time he went away. He had been driving a truck for years upon years but his wife still made him promise about the hitchhikers.
“You don’t know, they could be a killer for all you know. They could have blood on their hands and you could be their next victim and then where would we end up? Back here up a creek with no damn paddle. You just leave the hitchhikers to the next sucker and you come home. You hear me?”
“Yeah but you don’t know that.” And he was pleased that she so obviously cared about what happened to him when he was on the road. He knew that she listened to every weather report and watched every televised news programme to make sure she caught no glimpse of his red truck overturned in a snow bank somewhere. It tugged just a little at his heart strings to know that the young, vulnerable Alabama native he had fallen in love with, was still desperately fishing to hold onto him and when he heard the old twang she had seemingly lost in their Suburban Jacobstown home he remembered that once upon a time he had loved her too. Knowing his wife needed him to come home every time he set his truck in motion made him question whether he should want to come to her more then he did. Like his children he missed his wife as a person – as the person she was – the sexual, quiet, cute, neurotic worrier she was but he certainly didn’t exhibit the same deep rooted fear of being left alone that she did and frequently, when he was lonely and considered not going home, he wasn’t sure that that was normal behaviour for a father. And a husband.
“Okay baby...no hitchikers” he always promised, just to see the sweet smile that should have made his heart melt ever so slightly, but he never kept it. He couldn’t, not because he was purposely trying to defy or upset his wife but because it upset him every time he saw a small figure walking in the dust, thumb hitched up, a look of resolution on their face. He couldn’t just drive past, what if one of them turned into Joanie or should that be what if Joanie turned into one of them? How would he feel if he knew that he had trapped his daughter into a life of continual walking because he had driven past. And anyway he had the comforting knowledge that even if he did pick up the one hitchhiker that turned out to be a raving lunatic, he had 6 feet, 16 stone of pure muscle against them and even against a knife-16 stone was a hard number to penetrate.
